


Underwater

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dissociation, F/M, Freddie is a jerk, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, References to Hannibal Rising, mischa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in reply to this kinkmeme prompt:</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Freddie Lounds somehow digs up the name Mischa in connection with Hannibal. As she's being dragged away from a crime scene she shouts that they should ask him about Mischa. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>bonus - Hannibal is visibly upset (either an act or truth, up to you)</i></p><p> </p><p>Because I am discovering my love for vulnerable!Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underwater

How Ms. Lounds persisted in getting past police barriers was a mystery. She had three feet of bright red hair, marking her out like a poison dart frog. One would think she might find it difficult to blend into a crowd.

And yet, here she was.

Hannibal was examining a shard of glass when she entered the room. Glass on the inside of the window, when their victim had been found outside, on the ground below. Most curious.

“What’s the word? Sport killer, or some kind of pervert?” The click of a camera. No doubt taking as many photos as possible before she was made to leave.

“Ms. Lounds,” he said.

“Dr. Lecter.” She gave a slight bow. “So what do we think? Is it our boy from last week? Pretty young man, alone in his home… very similar.” _click_.

“Mm. Excuse me a moment, please.” He moved past her to alert Jack that she was in the house. A moment later, it was satisfying to see an agent lead her away, holding her firmly by the arm.

“I’ve been wondering why you’re drawn to this work, Doctor.” She knew she would be made to leave, but she kept her footing long enough to taunt him.

“Have you.”

“I thought you were the stable one on Jack’s little dream team, but maybe you just hide it better.” She smiled without humor. “It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?”

He raised an eyebrow. Ms. Lounds was vulgar, but she was far from stupid. If she were onto something –

“Is this about Mischa?” She cooed the words in mock-sympathy as the agent shoved her through the door. Her camera clicked again, a picture of his face as he froze.

He felt bloodless and dizzy, his vision swimming as the world darkened around him. His heart beat like a bass drum in his ears, terror, rage, and desperation.

“Hannibal?” Jack’s voice was quiet, as though muffled by water. “What was that about?”

“Hannibal?” Another voice. Where did Alana come from? “You’re bleeding!”

“Hm?” The world came back into focus. He looked up at Alana’s face, perplexed, then down at his hand where she was pointing.

Ah. The glass shard.

He had held it so tightly that it had cut through his glove, and then through the skin. His hand was now bleeding excessively, as hand wounds tend to.

He held it up, watching the bright, red blood drip down his arm. Their faces wore shock and concern.

“My apologies. I am afraid I must go before I contaminate the crime scene.” He nodded to them politely before leaving, holding his free hand over the injured one to keep the blood from dripping on the floor.

He ducked under the police tape and looked around dazedly. What had he meant to do? There was somewhere he should be… He was not used to such trouble in ordering his thoughts. It was terribly disconcerting. The world was still under water. The light was wrong.

“Hannibal?” He flinched at the hand on his arm. He hadn’t heard Alana behind him.

“Here.” The hand tugged him gently, and he followed. “Let’s get that cleaned up.”

There was a police van parked on the lawn. She opened the back door and sat him down inside. He looked on in distant puzzlement as she unfolded his hand, still tight around the shard, and peeled away his broken glove.

She clicked her tongue when she saw the depth of the wound. “You’ve got a real grip, you know that?”

“Indeed. At the moment, however, I could wish it were more solid.” He smiled at his own weak pun. Alana didn’t smile back.

The van had a first aid kit. She poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound, and it fizzed as she cleaned away the blood with cotton pads. She held it up to get a better look at it. “Well, you didn’t hit an artery. You’re the surgeon, think you’ll need stitches?”

He shook his head.

She covered it with clean gauze and bandaged it tightly. Her hands were strong and firm, and he was grateful for her steadiness. His mind swam back through associations. A cabin, freezing cold and gnawing hunger. A dark-haired woman bandaging his hand.

Alana held the wrap in place with metal clips. “There. Lay off it for a while, okay? No high-fives.”

He nodded.

She stood there with sad eyes, holding his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” His voice was raw, like he’d been screaming. “Perhaps another time.”

Alana drew him close, and he rested his face in her hair, letting her scent bring him back to the present.

**Author's Note:**

> Title after the Metric song ( http://youtu.be/wOxroKyNvI8 ), because when I think Hannibal, I think girly EDM. XD


End file.
